


Dance Until Sunrise

by Wolfermann



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Everything is Fine AU, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love in times of scurvy, M/M, Party, Partying like its 1848, Stanley does not burn down carnivale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfermann/pseuds/Wolfermann
Summary: Prompt 11: A long winters night





	Dance Until Sunrise

“What the god-damned hell is this?” Francis Crozier groaned at the party that had sprung up whilst he was in recovery. He watched with wonder at the men in costumes, drinking and swaying to whatever racket they had put together. His Steward, Thomas Jopson gently tugged at his sleeve, trying to ease the sick Captain back into his quarters.

“Sir, Captain Fitzjames put this together, for the men.” Of course something so extravagant would be tied to James Fitzjames’ name. He left the man alone for a month and he had planned a party. He should have been surprised but he was more impressed with what he had put together from their own ships and meager supplies.

“I want to speak with him.” Crozier grunted even as a masked man ran directly into him making his weary body ache more. Jopson quickly sprung to his defense.

“Mind your own path. The Captain is coming through!” His protector barked with surprising authority. Francis might have laughed if he wasn’t so overwhelmed by what James had managed. The man in question pulled up his mask revealing the sour face of Charles Des Voeux who only stared at the man before vanishing into the crowd. Odd but not uncommon of the man.

He was getting enough looks as is but no one had approached him. The crew all warily kept their distance, perhaps believing whole heartedly he had contracted an actual disease and it wasn’t something of his own doing. Regardless he kept going, trying to find the man of the hour.

 

* * *

“Stephen!” Doctor Alexander MacDonald called across the room at his colleague who looked miserably out of place in the crowd but he had come and in costume too. It only took some gentle begging on Alexander’s part to get him to go and a bit more flirtation and coaxing for him to go in costume.  “My friend you look the right part for the evening.” He mused once he was close enough to the man who looked at him a cold amusement. Stanley was quite the sight in white grease paint and ruffles that matched MacDonalds cheery red nose and hat.

“I need a drink, no several and I’m afraid you owe me a dance or two, Alexander.” The taller man flashed the tiniest of smiles before it disappeared under his usual stern shroud, making MacDonald feel a warm sense of glee he hadn’t felt in months, if not years.  

“Oh happily, my dear. John’s already waiting for us at a table and you may have me all night.”  

 

* * *

Henry Collins felt like a fool with the last scrap of clothing he could find wrapped around his neck like his albatross to bear throughout the party he didn’t even want to attend. Doctor Stanley had been the one to suggest the fun but he wanted to retreat back to the safety of his cabin where surely little Fagin would be waiting up for him. He miserably trudged through the crowd to find a corner to amuse himself in until he could slip away when he felt a gentle tug at his coat. Spinning, he saw a parade of curls hidden under a welsh wig and a tired smile on one Harry Goodsir’s face.

“Mister Collins, could you accompany me this evening? I-I was hoping perhaps we could talk. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it.” Goodsir stammered on sweetly, he looked just as tired as everyone else. Collins knew he was busy, up late studying and writing. Sometimes if he saw the man up in his cabin during his watch, Henry would go in to put a blanket around the little Naturalist and insist he go to sleep. He wanted to tell him about the darkness surrounding him but he received a pittance of an answer from Stanley but maybe it was for the best. Goodsir carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, he didn’t deserve any more troubles, not tonight.

“O’course, Doctor. My pleasure.”

 

* * *

“Well aren’t you a fancy lad,” Solomon Tozer seemed jollier than he had been in quite some time, merely decorated in his Royal Marine uniform and a gold grown placed upon his head. It almost matched the color of his natural ruffled hair. All the Marine’s seemed to wear one, even the catatonic Heather who they carted out on the ice for the celebrations. “Quite the costume you found, Mister Hickey.” The man going by Cornelius Hickey flashed his signature smile at the compliment, he really stood out amongst a crowd of colorful masks and paper dresses in his top hat and coattails.

“It is, Sargent. My prize I’ve been holding onto for a while now.” He hummed over his mug, it had been awhile since he let himself get this loose but Cornelius wasn’t going to let himself act a fool in front of all the others. Not like poor Lieutenant John Irving slurring in his angel costume to a crowd delighted to see the uptight saint put on a show. Perhaps the man could forgive the large crowd of gentlemen dressed as ladies and men taking to dancing with each other. In his Christian kingdom it was only alright during certain times of the year. He would always be a fool and hypocrite, they all were after all.

“Could I have a dance with you later?” Tozer was growing bold, perhaps from too much drink or the man felt confident in himself enough to ask the Caulker Mate to be seen with him in such a way. His warm breath, tainted with the stench on grog grazed his neck. Hickey almost shivered.

“Perhaps, Solly. I’ll think on it.”

 

* * *

Henry Le Vesconte was having a great time. There was plenty of good food and even better company. His greatest friend, James looked magnificent as Britannia, a surprise since he had been eyeing so many of the gowns tucked away in Franklin’s chests. Had he indulged a bit more than he wanted to? Perhaps. But he was feeling good, cheering for the men and firing his pistol in the air in support of his friend as the crowd adored their Captain. Just as he holstered his pistol, he felt Des Voeux press up against him before he heard the man speak.

“Henry, mon cher, a word s'il vous plait.” His companion and fellow Frenchmen, dear Charles, tried pulling him along but the silver haired man protested, gripping in his mother tongue the whole way to a private corner. The crew had taken to calling them the twins as they were never too see apart from the other these days, but as James had his eyes set on a particular Captain, Henry had taken an eager lover as well (even if he felt too eager somedays).  

The raven haired man wrapped his arms around his taller companions neck, his chocolate brown eyes brimming with affection reserved for only him. Henry felt himself truly honored by the smile that played on the sardonic man’s pink lips. He couldn’t help but indulge himself, kissing him without fear of any consequences. Plenty of men had run off to do the same and more, as if a man like James would punish anyone for wanting comfort in these times.

Charles was the first to break away, tilting his head to the side and letting free a sigh into the cold air of the night. His gravelly voice hummed,

“Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go for the rest of the evening,” Henry frowned, about to open his mouth to protest when Des Voeux snaked his hand down onto his chin, bringing him forward for another quick kiss. “Crozier is back, I don’t think the Captain will be needing you any further.” With that he resigned himself, cupping Charles’ petite face, devoting himself to the other man entirely.  

 

* * *

“James,” It felt like it had been years since they had seen one another. James was both elated and scared of the reprimand he may deserve for Carnivale but even a man like Crozier could see it was something the men truly needed. He removed his Roman helm, pulling slightly at the welsh wig to keep it in place. It hid enough secrets for now from those who cared about him, they didn’t need to know his body had already begun to betray him. “You’ve done a fine job with whatever this is.”

Fitzjames couldn’t help but offer his comrade a smile, walking with him further into the caverns they had constructed. Francis had dismissed his man servant who looked particularly peeved being told to go have fun for once in his life. Jopson seemed fine enough with sitting with a slightly joyous (well joyous for him) Edward Little and catching up on events.

“Thank you. It’s good to see you out and well. I take it you will be back to leading us soon?” They walked until they found a seat away from the crew where they could talk and Francis could rest. James could tell it would be awhile before the man gained back his strength.  

“Of course, James. Though you hardly need my help.” The Irishman whispered him praises, something Fitzjames was not quite used to from a man he once considered vile. He slipped his hand under their bench, taking one of his fellow Captain’s gloved hands in his own and squeezing it lightly.

“It is so good to have you back. I hate to admit it out loud but I certainly missed you,” Francis grinned at that, squeezing his hand back affectionately. They have business to attend to but they had the whole night to devote to the harder parts of their job. “Come watch the sun rise with me.” James sighed, worrying he may be asking too much of a man who suffered for nearly a month long. However the Captain looked back at him with a softness in his gaze..

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  


End file.
